Wolf
by Waffle-San
Summary: When morals are challenged, are you supposed to follow your heart or your brain?
1. Adler

_You know…When you first found me, I was really lost. In more ways than one. _

Feeling alone in a crowd wasn't an uncommon occurrence in the old world, or this new, dead one. It wasn't strange to feel like you were the last one, because you ran the risk of actually being the last one still breathing. It was all like a dream… or at least one of those bad B movies that Chandler Weisel made his obese daughter and wife, Leigh and Bonnie Weisel, on the occasional Saturday night that they were all home. One day, the family of three blondes had spent watching crappy zombie movies together, and the next…Well, this…Their home, large and lavish, was abandoned, but not a speck of blood was found in their massive Georgia mansion, except for on one person: A small, brown haired female.

The thin girl standing at only 4'9 and maybe sixteen years of age walked around, her skinny fingers wrapped around the hilt of a small, but viciously sharp dagger that she held up, ready to strike at a moment's notice. Her hair was long, reaching down to her lower back in a long braid that was held together with a yellow tie. It was impractical…but she couldn't part with her hair…She loved it too much. She slipped around edges skillfully, and every time she turned, she flashed some more of her vicious arsenal of weaponry.

Strapped to her body were guns and knives of all sorts. Two pistols were strapped by belts on her hips and positioned for easy access. On her belt were six throwing knives, red ones that looked as if they had just been bought, though they had been used multiple times. Her legs, clad in dark jeans, had guns strapped tight to each thigh, and inside of her thick combat boots were two, small knives that could be used to kill if she was caught in a sticky situation. A kitchen knife, one of those multi use ones, hung off each side, sheathed in their dark, metal carrying cases so that they wouldn't cut her, but could be pulled out with ease. Lastly, there was her heavy hitter: her shotgun she had lovingly named Percy. It wasn't particularly fancy, but it did the job well enough. Her supplies along with a few more weapons were in the worn army shoulder bag that she had pilfered from a soldier on the ground just moments before entering the mansion.

A girl didn't get by without a bit of brains and a small arsenal on her body.

The summer heat didn't relent as she surveyed the area, her pale skin sweating liberally and washing the dried blood off of her dirty skin and onto her green tank top. Her boots thumped softly on the wooden steps that sprawled up onto the second floor that was jus as expensive looking as the bottom…it was untouched in here…As if there wasn't dead people shambling just outside the door. The girl parted her pink, cracked lips and sighed. "If only…" Her voice was young, but held an unexpected southern twang to it as she drawled softly, continuing her ascent. The brunette turned to the side and continued down the unexplainably white washed halls, the honey oak getting dirtied under her mud caked boots. At the end of the hall was a door, and on it hung a name painted on a small sign, and she cocked her small head in confusion as she tried to read it. _"Leigh" _it spelled out, followed by flowers and birds on the pretty pink plaque that adorned the white door. "Hm…" She hummed out as she opened the door with one hand, the other held up with her knife still.

The room was empty, but untouched…Everything still seemed to be in place except for a few things that got knocked over with the window being opened, and a bit of weathering for the same reason…otherwise, it was like some sort of shrine to the girl who used to live in there. The girl sighed once more and walked over to the white side table next to the bed and gently picked up a frame that caught her eye. In the picture was a whole family: the two parents, and three kids. One was an older male, one that looked to be going through his teen angst stage though he looked to be in his early twenties. His blonde hair was in a scene style, not too long, but not too short, as it was still peeking out ffrom under his red and black striped beanie. In the middle of the portrait was a blonde girl, fat and short, but still lovely in her own way. Her blonde hair was cut into a short style, but it fell in waves around her round face, and her brown eyes were staring at the camera, a soft smile was set onto her pretty face. Her parents above her, both blonde, were smiling proudly at her and her sibling, who bore a striking resemblance to their parents in every way. But…there was one more…

On the side, the girl stared at herself in the picture. She was cleaned up, and her long brown hair was down fully and cascaded over her shoulders in a neat style. She was positively dark compared to the fairness of the family next to her. She stared for a moment, before breaking the glass frame and pulling out the photo and tucking it away in her back pocket for the time being. "It's okay, Leigh… Imma find you and ya family. But…" She smirked a bit, her teeth not as white as they were in the picture, but still clean thanks to the toothbrush and toothpaste she had pilfered from a store nearby. "I'm gonna use tha' bed of yours for a moment. I'm pretty tired…"

With a happy hop, the girl landed on the clean pink sheets, almost immediately dirtying them up. Her hand reached to the drawer and opened it lazily, snatching out the candies that were hidden inside of it. "Ah, ya fat bitch," she cooed as she took the sweets from within and deposited it into her neatly organized bag, "Ya told me ya ran out last time."

After quickly taking everything she needed, the girl then snatched up a piece of jewelry and held it out in front of her eyes, staring at it in an almost trance like state…It was gold…nearly pure gold. 24 karat was it? Hell…it had to be less than that, but it was still beautiful. The heart shaped locket was tiny, not more than an inch and a half big, and she never figured out how to open that damned thing…Leigh never told her. "Shit girl…" She hissed as she stuck it in her mouth and bit softly, trying to pry it open. "Wha' the fuck is in here?" After a moment, the brunette gave another sigh and placed the gold chain around her neck. "Fine fine…Imma keep it 'til I find you, then you can open it, dumb bitch-"

The door creaked open and before a breath could be drawn, her hand had already gone to her belt and ripped out her pistol. With the safety off, the girl stared down the man that had come into the room. He too had his gun up and pointed at her face and both of them stared down each other without wavering. The air was tight and horribly dense, and neither took a breath.

"…Are you bit?" He spoke calmly, as if it was his job.

"Nah," She answered just as cooly, not wavering in the slightest. She seemed not to care that a gun was in her face. "You?"

"No…" He slowly moved his gun away and replaced it in its holster. "Would you put your gun away?"

"Don' see why not…" She sighed and replaced it, but behind her body was her knife that she had hidden before she knew he was in the house with her. "Whatcha doin' here?"

"I could ask you the same thing…We're looking for food."

"My sister- well…Actually it was my cousin but we were close enough to be sisters, and we looked kind of alike except for the weight. She was a fatty, you know? Size eighteen was it? Must've been bigger… Anyway, she was a big girl." She gave a chuckle and looked straight at him. "That food? Ya going to have to share with me. I won't take a lot, promise. It's jus' me anyway. All the stuff I like is here, and I stayed here a lot so…"

"You can stay with us." The man offered, more relaxed than before. She didn't seem aggressive. Harsh, maybe, but not hostile. Perhaps she could be helpful, and staying on her own must have been difficult, especially for a girl like her. "You just have to answer three questions."

"Mmmhm…You're going to have to answer my questions too."

"Fair enough-"

She cut him off ungracefully. "How many others?"

He frowned, not liking her question. "A couple…How many walkers have you killed?"

She gave a cackle at this. "Ha! Ya think I keep count?" The youngster chortled and purred as if he asked her for something silly. "Well…Well over a hundred…But who hasn't? They come at me, and I kill them." She let the silence linger for a moment before asking her own question once more. "You trust these people?"

"I do…They're good people. Have you killed anyone living?"

"Yah." He opened his mouth to ask his final question, now alarmed at the idea that she may be dangerous, but she raised her hand. "Ma turn, and ma last question…Can I leave if I wanna? No one will hold me back or try to keep me a prisoner?"

"If that's what you want, I see no reason why not…Why did you kill that person?"

"They were bit and didn' wanna turn, so I shot 'em in the head. Nothing brutal, or cold hearted…Jeeze you think that badly of me?" She gave a soft chuckle and sat up, staring at him. "Alright…if ya'll have me, I'll come and pull my share of work…It's getting' a lil' lonely out here all by maself." She gave another chortle, a elated one that still held an undertone of her callous self. He gave a sigh and rubbed his forehead. _Damn that sense of justice…_Leaving a young girl wasn't what he wanted to do, even if she was a little quirky.

"Rick Grimes…You are?"

"Rebecca Adler, sir. It's a pleasure."

_I can't say I'm any less lost than I was then…but I'm lost with some friends. That's better than nothing, right?_

* * *

_Warning! This story will have many types of triggers!_

I do not own TWD or any of its characters or plots.


	2. Jabberjaw

_There's a big difference between being lost and alone…_

She had joined them at the farm about a week ago, but Daryl Dixon hadn't spared her more than a glance as she strutted in behind Rick. The only thing he noticed was how heavily armed she was; hell, the girl wasn't any older than sixteen, but she was armed to the teeth. Throwing knives, pistols, kitchen knives, box cutters, a shotgun, daggers… If it could cause some damage, it was in her possession. The only thing she was missing as a baseball bat. It was only after the first week did he actually get a good look at her.

The first thing he noticed as he passed her was those shit brown eyes of hers. They weren't even a pretty brown, not dark, not light, just gross, and the way they were angled didn't help her. It wasn't that she was particularly disgusting looking, but the southern man could see that slimy attitude of hers in her eyes. Then he saw that smirk of hers on her face. Strangely enough, it seemed to always be there. It was cocky, overconfident, just downright _infuriating _at its finest. Her lips were thin and dry already, but to be drawn up into that constant sneer of hers was just...

She had brushed past him once, and if it wasn't the cold metal of her weaponry that gave her identity away, it was that scent of hers. It was unnatural, as if it came out of a bottle…Perfume. It was a scent that hadn't been there in a while, with no one really needing it anyway. But she had it on her body nonetheless; what a petty creature she was. It was faint and smelled like some sort of flower he wasn't too familiar with, but it was still there, and it caused him to glance down at the small teenager. She looked back up at him from the corner of her eye, and it seemed as if her smirk pulled up more as she held up three ducks in her hand, all of them dead and skinned, ready to be cooked.

"Ah, I don't believe we've spoken, Mister Dixon…But I have to get these to the other women before they get nasty! I'll see you later," she chimed merrily, her voice still high and childish from adolescence. She seemed to skip off after, leaving him behind without another word. He stared after her wordlessly; he was just about to disappear into the woods to find something to shoot with his arrows, but it seemed as if she had beaten him to the punch. He shook his head lightly to clear it before continuing on anyway. It was pleasant to have a female there, even if she was young and irritating, that could do something besides cook and complain. She couldn't keep up with him in her dizziest day dreams, though, not matter how hard she tried. She'd better keep that fact in the back of her mind as well, lest she wanted to make a fool of herself.

Then another week passed before they had any contact. She seemed to disappear and only come up when she was needed, or when there was food to offer. He began to notice her goofy sleeping patterns. They were impractical with the hours: awake mostly at night, and slept like a rock during the day hours, almost like an owl.

It was that night that a shuffling outside his tent, one of something two legged, awoke him from his light slumber. He stared at the shadow that was walking outside his tent with surprising dexterity. The black mass kneeled down and pawed at his tent zipper. His dark eyes narrowed as he grabbed his crossbow and aimed silently at the head of the unknown mass. It took a few minutes for the person to finally figure out how the zipper worked, and they slowly slid it up and around as his finger pressed further and further down on the trigger. The second before he let his arrow fly, he saw those stupid, infuriating, shit brown eyes of hers. He aimed to the side just as the arrow flew, and instead of hitting her in the dead center of her face, as he planned to, the arrow sailed to the left and merely nicked the side of her face and grazed her high cheekbones instead. With a growl of indignation, he emerged, shoving her to the side roughly as he did. "Damnit girl! I woulda shot ya stupid bitch ass!" He trudged past her, practically steaming as he retrieved his arrow from a nearby tree a few yards away. She followed him merrily, some pep in her step as she touched the cut on her face, hissing as it stung under her fingers. "Now wha' the fuck do ya want!?"

She gave a small giggle, unphased by her near death experience. "You weren't the first ta point something at ma face…I grew up in the ghettos of Atlanta. 'Could hardly walk down the block without someone wanting ma purse or ma panties. And I don't think this will be the last time that someone puts a weapon in ma face." He scoffed at her words and sheathed his arrow angrily as he sat down back in his tent.

"Didn't answer mah question there, girl..."

"I jus' wanna talk!" she chirped merrily as she plopped down in front of him.

"It's two in th' damn morning!"

"Yeah. So?"

"Go th' fuck to sleep, Jabberjaw." With that, he closed his tent once more and settled in. She whined outside for a moment, sounding like a neglected puppy. After a moment of her whining failing to get his attention, she quieted down. Her lithe body rose up and walked off, but she sadly didn't go too far. With a ithumpi, she slammed her hunting knife into a nearby tree and ascended it with ease. Her light body must have been easy enough to support with just a knife or two. Finding a spot in the branches, she settled in boredly, slowly falling asleep as he did below.

That peace was short lived as the younger Dixon was awoken a few hours later by hushed arguing.

"Ya' not ma mother, Ma'am. Don't try to act like it."

"Rebecca, please, we need help inside the house-"

A snarl came from the younger. "I'm not a house bitch. I barely go inside there for anything besides the toilet. I bring back food for you guys, whether it be cans or game, and I help deal with the stupid walkers that run around here. Tha's my job, not being a maid." He could hear the snarl in her voice as she snapped at Rick's wife.

"You're just being selfish and spoiled, now come-"

" Th' fuck did I just say to you?" She barely let her get a word in edgewise before she snapped like a trap. "Ya not my mother. Ya not my boss. Ya just some bitch trying to tell me what to do." There was a thump as she fell from the tree and onto the ground. "So you better stop that shit before-"

"Before what, Rebecca? You shoot me? Stab me?"

There was a momentary silence in the air before the youngster let out an eerily lighthearted and elated giggle. "Keep it up and you'll find out real quick!" she chortled before she turned on her heel and into the woods, knife in her hand as she went on her merry way. With silence and her ghostly giggle still hanging in the air, Lori Grimes headed back to the farm house, leaving Daryl on his own in his tent, finally free of the feuding females for a while.

And like that, another week passed, and it was a relatively peaceful week, but…something was just a bit off. It was quiet outside of finding the boy and dealing with him, and it just was unnatural. There seemed to be a certain peace that no one quite understood, nor questioned. But at dinner that night, there was a lack of food, and everything seemed to click into place.

"…Has anyone seen Rebecca lately…? I haven't heard anything from her in a while," questioned the young Asian man of the group, Glen. A tentative silence set in as they all realized what was different. Though she had been there for only three weeks, if not less, she seemed to make more of a social impact then everyone realized.

"…Not since last week when…Oh god…" Lori cursed to herself softly and placed a hand over her mouth, the other running through her long locks nervously. If something happened to the teen, it would be her fault, though she was the only one who knew it. Her dark eyes travelled to the window where raindrops travelled down the side. If she wasn't in the house, then she must be…

Rick was the first to get up and ascend the stairs, calling her name. His footsteps thumped around as he went room to room, calling almost frantically as he searched for her. Moments later, he came down once more, shaking his head as he started issuing orders. "We have maybe an hour of daylight left…We need to get some search parties together. Get Daryl and listen to him. I don't want to lose another if I can help it."

And with that, they divided into groups: Rick leading one party along with Shane and a few more people, Glen and Maggie in another with a few others, and Daryl on his own, as he always was. The rain would make things difficult; it washed away tracks and scents, and it chilled the men and women to their worn bones. It rattled them, and as the sun disappeared and the weather intensified, one by one, the parties returned to the safety of the farmhouse, planning to continue their search in the morning, but one remained out.

Daryl couldn't stand the thought of leaving her out as they did Sophia. After what happened, to her…risking that again just couldn't happen. The water, chilly and refreshing, dripped down the side of his well sculpted face as he called for her, sharp and short, his voice edged with worry. "Rebecca!" he called for her once more before stopping to look around in the dense storm. "Rebecca!" He rubbed the palm of his hand into his face with a snarl of aggravation. With the darkness around him and the rain dense, He couldn't see a damn thing, much less track it. The hunter was more or less useless in this situation. He growled and slammed his fist into a nearby tree, scraping his knuckles with the action before he pressed his head into the rough bark. _Fucking useless…Couldn't save anyone. _

There was a drip on his face that was off from the rest. He felt a certain viscosity to it that just was off from the usual slick lightness of rain water. His fingers brushed against the place where the liquid dripped and brought it close to his eyes so he could see exactly what the substance was. Though it was diluted heavily, it was unmistakably something sticky and irony. His eyes widened and with slight hesitation, he turned his gaze up to see what exactly was above him.

It was definitely her. That hair of hers was far too long to mistake for anyone else, and when he moved his foot to go after her, his boots clanked against some of her fallen weaponry. Her body laid loosely in the tree, but with it being tied to the trunk solidly, she wouldn't fall down. But she was high up, and it made him wonder exactly how she had gotten that far up into the tree, and for what reason. She was roughed up, punctured in one or two places and scraped and cut in a few others, and her mouth was slightly parted as she slept, her breath coming out ragged and shallow. Had she been bitten? "Fuck, girl…" he snarled as he threw his crossbow on his back and drew out his hunting knife and held it taut in his worn hand. "Gotta be difficult, don'tcha?"

And with that, he slowly made his way up, his hands occasionally slipping from with water lubricating everything, but eventually he arrived at her limp body. One of his hands fell upon the branch and with the other he reached up to shake her awake. "Hey, Hey!" He yapped at her as he roughly shook her, but she did not stir from her deep slumber. He reached up and brushed the hair out of her face to see them only half lidded, not quiet asleep, but not quite awake. Those pale cheeks of hers were flushed brightly with red as her breaths came out ragged. "Fuck…" The brunette hissed as he took one of her knives he snatched up before sliding it under her restraints and cutting them with ease. Without the ropes keeping her down, her weight pulled her to the side and she began to tumble off. A snarl escaped his lips, and he grabbed her wrist and held her up. "Quit!" he snapped, as if she could hear him in her stupor, and he yanked her into his chest to prevent her from falling. The violent movement sent him off balance, and he plummeted down with her in his grip.

His scarred back slammed against the forest floor roughly, eliciting a groan of pain from him as he laid there, trying to recover from it. The added weight, though it wasn't much, didn't help either. He was positive there was a broken rib somewhere, but that could wait. After a moment of laying in the cold rain, allowing it to drip and ease his pain, he rose. His arms, strong and uncovered, wrapped around rebecca and hoisted the woman on his back. Her face gently rolled into the crook of his neck, and then he truly felt just how warm she was. Perhaps he was just cold, but Rebecca Adler might as well have been boiling with the temperature of her skin.

"How are you still alive…?" he questioned, and as if to answer, her taut grip on what was in her hand loosened, and the bundle hit the ground softly. It was bark, and not only that, it had been chewed on. That made sense…He had seen a tree on the way that had been torn at and ripped apart nearly to the core, and bark had been removed. Willow was more or less Asprin, and that brought down the fever. Smart girl. "…Let's just get ya' dumb ass back…"

And he trudged on silently, noting a few things about her as he did. She was light, almost incredibly so; he had carried fat birds heavier than her. Her chest was small, and it felt strange on his back with the minute size. Girls her age were usually developed by now but she was just…pathetically flat. Her legs were like tiny sticks and seemed to be easily broken, and it was the same with her arms that were loosely draped around his broad shoulders. Everything about her was unnaturally petite, almost as if she was a skeleton already.

He continued on, his face set into a determined expression. She was little, she was sick, and she was bleeding from the gashes that she loosely patched up. It wasn't a bite, more of scratch marks from some animal, but if those weren't infected already, they would be soon. He hadn't dared remove her sloppy bandages. She had almost everything working against her, all except Daryl Dixon. He would make sure she survived if he had to nearly kill himself in the process.

So he kept going, making his way back to the farm as quickly as he could without hurting her too much. She had gone a far way away from camp, and it was irritating him just how many dips and grooves he had to struggle through just to go back to the farm that he held no particular care for just for this dumb-

Her breathing was slowing and becoming shallower as they came into the clearing. Morning was just beginning to break and shine it's gentle light down on them and the rain was slowing as he approached. With her condition worsening, he broke out into a full run while trying not to jostle her weak self too much. With how weak she was, she needed to get her to Hershel as soon as possible. Taking two steps at a time onto the large porch, his foot slammed into the screen door frantically, making a mighty clamor as he yelled for the people inside. "Open the fuckin' door!"

"I haven't heard this much racket since the neighbor's cow got loose… I'm coming!" The door swung open and Maggie, thin and pretty, opened the door, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "God, what's the deal- "She blinked in surprise as she stared at the two. She shook her momentary stupor, and then cried out for her father as she directed Daryl to the unoccupied couch with a pointing finger. "Daddy! Come quick! He found her!"

Without missing a beat, he jogged to the couch and deposited her down slowly. No sooner then he let go had Maggie taken her place next to him and directed him on what to do. "Get all that crap on her off: Weapons, shirt, pants, bandages, all of it. She needs to get dry."

He did as told, not that Rebecca like it. He grabbed one of her knives from the side and slid it straight up her shirt, cutting the fabric loose and tearing it off before repeating with her pants. As soon as she was bare, a blanket was thrown over her. Hershel hobbled into the room slowly, and with a dismissive hand, he shooed the Dixon off. Daryl gave a nod and walked back outside, only to be stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He threw a tired glance over his shoulder to see Carol looking at him with reserved happiness in her eyes.

"Thank you for finding her…And not letting what happened to Sophia happen to her…"

A twinge of pain stabbed his heart as he remembered the dead girl's face before he turned away and returned to his tent. "It wasn't her time…" He answered simply before leaving to catch up on his lost hours of sleep.

_Being alone is hell. Being lost though…I don't mind being lost if it's with you…_


	3. Balboa

A week seemed to be the average time between conversations with Rebecca and Daryl. The brunette girl only spent a grand total of three days healing, or well…she refused to stay down for any longer than that. No one could talk her out of getting up and going outside. She seemed to like it there more than inside the house with all the people, and she often sat under a tree in the shade, her knife in one hand, the sharpening steel in the other, quiet as could be. She got up and returned inside on occasion, maybe to rest where she wouldn't have to run from something and reopen her still healing wounds, but for a week, Daryl hadn't laid eyes upon her.

The country man had heard her before he heard her; for once, she wasn't blabbering on with that Louisiana accent of hers. The girl was humming to the side, an unfamiliar tune leaking from her lips as the blade scraped on the long steel. With the sound of her low melody guiding him to her, he found her at the base of a thick oak, the leaves crunched underneath her boots as she tapped her feet to the tune that was clear in her head, but even though she seemed to be wrapped up in her own thoughts, she still managed to be aware of her surroundings and initiate conversation with the older man.

"Ever watch Sweeny Todd?"

He furrowed his brow in confusion. _What the shit was a Sweeny?_ "Never heard of it."

"It's a good play, but I liked the movie a hella lot more," she hummed a few more bars, a low, soothing melody, the scraping of the blade adding a layer of uneasiness to it. Her brown eyes were focused on the task at hand. "Th' barber, Sweeny Todd, got shipped off to a prison camp by this judge who wanted his wife's ass, but she ended up poisoning herself because he raped her or something, and she was upset. The dumb bitch seemed to forget her kid though, and the judge took charge of it," an exceptionally angry scrape emphasized her displeasure," Well the barber comes back, and he gets pissy because h the judge is an asshole, and he goes on this epic killing spree with this psycho baker lady who wants his D." She threw a glance up at him for a moment before returning it to her hands. "Well, in the end, he ends up killing the judge and getting his revenge, but his wife was alive and he killed her too, and nearly killed his daughter, who he didn't know was his daughter, and the psycho baker lady. But this kid they took in ends up killing him…Oh, and there's this cute lil' boy who ends up marrying Johanna in the end. That's the daughter's name."

"You just like to hear yourself talk, don't you?"

"Can't say I don't," she gave a chortling laugh and put her knives back into the case that was beside her, then picked up her gun and began working on cleaning it. "You know, I really hope Johnny Depp is alive."

"Who the hell is that?"

The girl practically slammed her gun out and threw him a dirty look. "Who's Johnny Depp!? That's like asking who Ghandi is!"

"Hey hey, let's calm down," he rolled his eyes and plopped down on the opposite side of the tree so he wouldn't have to look at her ugly face. He grumbled out an insult at her, "Dumb bitch." She didn't seem offended by that, and she merely threw a grin over her shoulder and returned it playfully.

"Stupid hick."

A comfortable silence fell over them as he skinned the eight or so rabbits he had caught and killed. The clacking of her gun gave him the indication she hadn't left. And it seemed that they would both be there for a long time, and the sun had moved its position from one horizon to the middle of the sky before she spoke again.

"Ever been married?"

He raised a brow and looked back at her, to catch her gaze with his. "Do I look like the type to get hitched?"

"Not really…A boy asked me to marry him before all this. The kid bought the ring and all."

"And? What did you do?"

"I kicked him."

"Damn girl. Rude."

"I knew him for two weeks, barely remembered his name when he asked. It was Adam, by the way…he was kind of crazy."

"Had to be to like you."

She sucked in a playful breath and placed her hand over her heart, as if she had been wounded. "Wow. Ow, that one stung a bit."

He rolled his eyes and picked up the last rabbit. "You've heard worse."

"That's true."

And no more words were spoken between the two. Both were comfortable with the silence, though it was strange for the chatty girl to be quiet, Daryl was pleased with the fact that she was silent, no stupid stories about Sweenies, no movie actors, no ominous melodies being hummed. Just…Silence. Even as they walked back to the house, her eyes drooping slightly from being so weary; healing had taken more out of her than she had let on, so when she stumbled from being so exhausted, he snatched the back of her shirt and yanked her up onto her feet with a quiet word of chastisement, and took her shotgun from her hands. There was a low growl from her, but she didn't attempt to take it back. She'd yank it from his cold, dead hands later. "Percy…"

"What?"

A finger flicked to point at her gun. "His name is Percy…Keep him safe." She hobbled on inside, the soreness returning to her short frame, and he rolled his eyes, a motion that was becoming alarmingly second nature to him.

"Crazy girl…"

Another week passed before that boy, the one that had a bum leg, arrived. Rebecca had gotten significantly better by then, and hadn't paid half a mind to the boy, but when the two feuding cops returned with the boy in tow after announcing they were going to released him, she was intrigued. She hadn't spoken more than two words to Shane outside of a greeting or two, but it was becoming evident that he was losing it from the way he interacted around others. She stayed a good distance from him as often as possible, not wanting to have to draw her knife on a man that seemed to be twice her size. He'd have to go after her for that to happen.

Rebecca's interest was now invested in that boy though…Daryl had gone to talk to him, but a tingle in her tiny frame told her that it wasn't words that were going to be exchanged. Her pink tongue darted over her teeth as she pulled on her army pack and made her way to the barn they kept the boy as stealthy as she could, darting around the back and out of everyone's sights. She took one careful step at a time, her hunting expertise keeping her out of sight as Daryl stormed out, his fists bloody and his expression darker than before. With his back turned, she slipped into the rapidly closing doors and laid eyes upon the boy.

His eyes widened as he saw her, obviously panicked by her presence, but before he could scream and alert the others to her presence, she placed a finger over her lips and put down her back and the knife in her grip. It seemed to relax him a bit, but his tight lips and the slight wriggling motion he made as he tried to scoot away from her told her that she was still alarmed. "Hey hey…I'm the nice one. What's your name, kid?"

The boy licked his lips tentatively, deciding whether or not answering her was a good idea, but eventually, he settled and told her. "Randall."

"Alright…Rebecca," she approached him, crawling over on her hands and knees while dragging her back pack with her. He flinched and turned his head away as one hand came up to his face and hovered over the fresh wounds. "Geeze…Harsh. I can't give you ice or anything for the swelling but…" She dug into her pack and pulled out a small medical kit from its depths, and upon opening it, it was more spacious than it seemed. Gauze and bandages were haphazardly thrown in, but she was rooting around in it for something else. She found it a moment later and a bottle was wrapped in her worn fingers. "Here…Asprin is the best I've got for you, and I can clean your wounds, but I can't wrap them…They'll find out and then I can't come help. So shh…" he nodded, and after fishing out a small bottle of water, she put the pills in his awaiting mouth and poured water in slowly, trying not to choke him. A drop dribbled out, and her thumb swiped over his bottom lip, shooing the droplet away gently.

The young man hissed as she patted a cloth of disinfectant over his open wounds, but it the sting passed, and she packed her materials away. His eyes followed her, and before she got to the door to leave, he called to her softly. "You're very kind, ma'am…"

She scoffed offhandedly and waved her hand dismissively. "Yeah, right. You're just glad that I'm not beating your face in…" She gently went to work on him, her rough hands working on them gashes shakily. She shoved a roll of bandages in his open mouth as she poured a bit of alcohol on his wounds to keep them clean, and she was glad she did because he screamed into it out of pain. After the initial pain and a few moments of silence, she removed it from his lips. "Sorry…It'll be worth it…"

"Thank you…Could you maybe…Help me get out? I won't do anything, I swear!"

"Sorry, kid…Just because I fixed you, doesn't mean I can trust you…You've gotta prove it to me, to everyone…" She threw her brown gaze at him from over her shoulder and held his own gaze steadily. "I really hope you can do that…You seem like a good guy…" With that, she silently slid out.

For the next few days, she tended to him after each beating, her supplies slowly dwindling down little by little…until she made the mistake of bandaging his shredded wrists with clean white bandages. A certain redneck had seen them by chance, and instead of going to the rest of the group to consult them, he immediately went after his suspect himself.

Daryl found her underneath her usual shady oak, taking care of her arsenal. The man stalked up to her and held the bloody bandages out for her to see, and her shit brown eyes slowly glazed over them, widening just a touch in surprise and horror. "You do this?" He spat out angrily, acid lacing his southern accent.

"No…" She lied straight to his face, and even she seemed a little ashamed of that.

Clearly, he didn't believe her, and his deep set scowl worsened. "Who did then?" He snapped, his patience worn. They were trying to get information from this guy, who could possibly lead an antagonistic group to them, and she was trying to help him? _Stupid little-_

"I dunno…" She mumbled lowly, like she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Her worn fingers plucked at the grass beneath her.

"Don't lie to me girl."

It was her turn to scowl as she turned her gaze from the ground she had been intently watching. "Ok fine; I helped him, okay?"

"No! Not okay. What if he did something to you? Got away?"

"Well he didn't! It's not a big deal!"

"I don't know why you think yourself invincible, Rebecca!" He seemed to hit the nail on the head as her sour look only deepened. "You're gonna get yourself fuckin' killed!"

"Mind your own business," the smaller girl practically snarled at him, a low grumble resonating in the back of her throat as she more or less threw everything show owned into the bag at her feet, wanting to get away from him as quick as she could, "You don't know me."

Daryl gritted his teeth, but didn't make a move to stop her. "You better stay away from that boy…I won't come to save your ass when you need me to."

She brushed past him in annoyance, making sure to slam her slight shoulder into him roughly, though seen regretted it because he was considerable more solid. Her braid swayed behind her as she trudged away from him, a black cloud hanging over her and her defenses visible again. He just watched, his blue irises narrowed in annoyance at her foolish actions. His fist tightened until his knuckles were white, and his lips pursed together into a fine line. With a snarl, the youngest Dixon slammed the side of his clenched fist into the tree and trudged off into the woods, the bloodied bandages in his hand. He'd throw them where no one would find them. If he brought it up to rick or anyone else, they would make a big deal of it, possibly throw the girl out. He didn't care much, but they needed everyone they could get.

Despite the warning, Rebecca made her way to the barn after dark, her lithe form skirting against the walls until she made her way to the barn and slipped in soundlessly. At the motion, the boy awoke from his slumber and immediately started flailing and making noise, his vision obstructed by a blindfold. "Shh!" She chastised as she approached him,"We've been through this before, Randall. Shut it."

"S-Sorry…" He mumbled, a little relaxed, "Its dark, and I'm always afraid that those other men will come out…"

"This time of night? Doubt it…" She gently touched a cut after removing the blindfold from his eyes, testing to see if it was warm and infected. He sucked in a deep breath. "Oh, sorry."

" It's okay…Try not to do it again."

"Yeah," she gently began dabbing at his cuts, each touch drawing a pained breath from him. "Almost there..."

"…You have any idea what they plan on doing with me…?" She remained silent, pondering how she should answer him…Rebecca heard whispers of an execution for him, and it sounded as if it would be carried out within the week. "Not good then…"

"No…" She moved away, her job complete, "Not good at all."

"Run away with me." There should have been a snap with how quickly her head turned back to him. "We can leave! Together! My group will take you back!"

"No…" She sighed and shook her head, her long brunette locks fanning out slightly with the motion. "I can't do that, hun…I've got responsibilities here."

"No no! Don't leave me here Rebecca!" he pleaded pitifully, his voice high pitched and panicked. The handcuffs around his wrists rattled noisily until suddenly stopping. His warm touch was tightly gripped around her thin wrist, the blood dripping down her skin and her fingers. He had practically broken his wrist to get it out of its binds, and torn so much skin that the skin around both sides of his hands. The flesh was angry and raw , and she could feel it against her worn skin. "Please _Please! _Don't go! I don't wanna die!"

"Let go of me, Randall…" Her eyes were boring into his, not angry, but clearly displeased. His grip only tightened on her wrist in response. "One…"

"Listen to me!"

"Two…"

"Rebecca I love you!" Her eyes narrowed, but she paused in her count down. "I love you, and I want you to come with me! We'll start a life and it'll be wonderful! Just let me go and I'll take you away from these people. If they're doing this to me, what will they do to you?"

"Three." She lashed out, a thin, needle point dagger held tautly in her small hands. Its cold steel bit into his face from the corner of his lip to his temple. With a yelp of pain, his grip slackened and she turned on him, taking his wrist in her hand and bending it awkwardly behind his back and tightening the grip of the metal handcuffs painfully around him. Now that he was contained, she grabbed his head and slammed it into the wall of the barn, hard enough to make his vision swim, but not hard enough to do lasting damage. "You touch me again boy…" Her brown eyes were rock hard in their gaze, and held little emotion in their depths. She twirled the knife around her fingers, and stabbed the blade into the wood close to his head, her eyes on his, watching to see his horrified reaction. "…And I won't miss next time…" With a sharp tug, she pulled it out, the silver glinting in the moonlight. The girl trudged out wordlessly, her supplies and weapon in hand.

The next morning, Daryl made his way out to check on Randall to make sure he wasn't dead, his knife on his hip and the remainders his breakfast that he had caught an hour prior in hand. Throwing the bone off to the side, the country man opened the gate and took a peek inside, only to see the boy was bleeding from a large knife wound on his face that he or Rick's second in command hadn't caused. His lips turned into a deep scowl as he stalked over. Without his blindfold, Randall got to witness Daryl's change in demeanor, and writhed around, trying futilely to escape. Disregarding the younger man's panic, he grabbed his jaw roughly and forced the boy to look at him.

"Did you touch her?" Daryl snarled as he tightened his drip painfully on the others face.

"N-No-"

"Don't lie to me, boy!"

"I-I didn't mean to hurt her! I-I Just-" Daryl's fist never moved so quick as it cracked across the boy's face. A tooth went skittering across the floor as a mixture of saliva and blood spattered across the wooden walls.

"She fixed your stupid ass up! And that's what you give back?!"

"I didn't do anything-" Another strike across his face cut him off, but he was quick to start up again," I just wanted her to leave with me! I'd take care of her!"

His words just brought more pain to him as Daryl was upon him again, his knife in his hand and placed at his neck. "I should kill you right now for that! You don't know that girl!"

"You don't either-" He drove the knife into his injured leg, effectively stopping his train of thought with a scream.

"You shut your mouth; you are not going to talk to her ever again!" Daryl pulled away and left his threat lingering in the air as he stormed out. He latched the door tightly, and the noise of metal hitting metal drew the attention of a few other who were nearby, but he didn't seem to care much. His mind was on someone else, and he could see her sitting up in the branches of the oak close by. Once the man was at its base, he looked up at her, squinting slightly from the sunlight that peered through its branches. "I warned you." She didn't respond, or even acknowledge his presence. He growled and watched her for a moment before growling a low ,"Fuck it…" And scaling up the tree up to her level.

"It's my birthday, you know…" Rebecca said lowly, her eyes focused on a family of birds that was far out of her reach. "I'm Seventeen now…Getting' old, huh?"

"Tell yourself that when you're thirty…" He settled himself in the branch, intent on chastising her, but he was met with half a chocolate bar. His dark brows furrowed and he looked at her, confused. She stared back for a moment, then shrugged. "Want it? I can eat it all myself if that's what you want. I'm not exactly worried about gaining weight anymore, and I sure as hell can't have a birthday cake." He took it, mostly just to appease her so he could talk with her, and he took a bite of the thin bar. It was overly sweet to him, but she seemed pleased with it. "I know what you're here for, and it's not the fact that I'm one year closer to being legal."

"Then let's cut to the chase…" He reached out and took her wrist lightly; she didn't object as he moved her long sleeves back to revel the obvious purple bruising on her wrist. He had noticed it when she held out the chocolate to him. "Is that all he did?"

"Yeah…I've had worse…" He opened his mouth to call her stupid, but she cut him off. "He told me he loved me."

Daryl was shocked to say the least; of course Randall liked her; she was there to fix him instead of hurt him, but he didn't expect him to proclaim his love just like that. "You believe him?" He managed to get out after sucking on the melting chocolate in his mouth to save some time.

"You look at his face? Of course I didn't."

"Smart girl." She raised a brow skeptically; that was the first time he called her intelligent. "He would have killed you if you let him go. Isn't it every girl's fairy tale to get whisked away, anyway?"

"Romeo isn't my type." She bit into her last square before wiping her hand on her pants, as the other was still being held lightly. She gestured to his hand. "You're kind of bleeding there," She said as she chewed on her chocolate. He hadn't quite noticed the cuts that formed, and he had only socked the boy twice. "Must've hit him pretty hard, Balboa; good job." He stayed quiet and just gave her the customary eye roll before she pulled away from him and jumped down to the ground, hitting it and rolling straight to her neatly packed bag. "I fixed him up enough. I'll fix you too."


	4. Word

It had been a nice morning when she decided to take an extra hunting trip; Lori was eating for two, and while she absolutely could not stand the woman, she didn't want the baby to suffer because she was an idiot. Besides, having a bit more food couldn't hurt, right? It wouldn't go to waste. So the brunette packed her bags and trudged off silently. Everyone was tired from dealing with Dale's death and what to do with Randall and they seemed to be sleeping in just a bit longer. Why wake them up? She'd done this before on her own, and she made it a point to avoid Daryl's tent, knowing a slight sound would wake him.

So she hunted the day away until late afternoon. The hot sun beat down on her back. Three rabbits and a duck were firmly clasped in her hand as she marched along, her footsteps steady and even. Rebecca was beat from the day's activities, but everyone would be pleased to see her catch. Hell, maybe she could pull a smile out of Daryl.

Her thoughts were interrupted by other footsteps, and she perked up, straining to hear what was happening. Their voices were hushed, a little agitated, as if they were under pressure, but they were familiar. She turned her head around the tree to see who it was, and was met with something gruesome.

It was Shane and Randall, but Randall's head was turned at an awkward angle and broken, Shane's older hand wrapped tightly around his face. Out of shock, she dropped her kills, drawing his attention to her. His eyes rested on her for a minute, cold and wide; he obviously had not planned for her to be there. "Rebecca-" He could barely get her name out before she took off, her slender legs taking her light from across the forest floor and throwing her body over fallen logs like she was a gazelle. He took off after her, his plans almost ruined, but not before smashing his head into a nearby tree to provide proof to his back story.

Her boots slapped on the leaves on the ground, forcing them to flutter with the motion. He had killed a man that was not dead, and it was likely that he would kill her so she wouldn't squeal. So she didn't slow her pace, even as he called for her, a snarl echoing in his voice as he hunted futilely. After some time, she couldn't hear the police man's voice anymore, and her heart raced in her chest as her limbs screamed for her to stop. There was no chance she was going to do that soon, so the forest swallowed her up as if she was nothing more than a rabbit to be hunted.

She vaguely remembered stopping at a highway, cars were backed up, and a few cans of food rested on the hood of one. Her dry tongue ran over her cracked lips, her metality set on survival and nothing else. She snatched a can of chili and a bottle of water from the waiting supplies before slipping inside a car. The smell hit her roughly, but with her blood racing, she only cared if the ones in the car with her were alive. After driving her kitchen knife into the head of the one that had fallen over in the back seat for good measure, she settled into the alcove just in front of the passenger's seat, her small body managing to curl up inside the tiny space. After replacing the kitchen knife in its proper place and returning it to her survival pack, she got a small, sturdy pocket knife from her belt and drove it into the lid of the can, puncturing it, and quickly opening it after. With no utensils, she was forced to eat her breakfast with her fingers like some sort of savage, but her mind wasn't allowing her to be more than an animal right now. She'd bite anything that came close to her until she was positive it was safe outside.

So night turned to day, and she had not moved an inch outside of turning her head, eating the remains of her meal, and drinking from the water bottle. Percy dug into her flesh, but it provided her some odd comfort, knowing she still had three shots left it. Sleep had begun to claim her, and her head bobbed slightly, heavy with exhaustion, but voices caught her attention, and though groggy, she was on high alert. Motors grumbled in the distance until they closed on her. _Oh god Shane had found her…They were after her next._ Her fingers trembled, her conflicted emotions scaring her; the thought of their fists beating her to a slow death frightened her deeply. Though shaking, her fingers curled around one of the short daggers stored inside her boots and her aching muscles tensed up painfully. Rebecca Adler wouldn't go down without a fight.

"So that's all of us? Andrea and Rebecca got left behind?"

"Maybe Shane was right about her running…"

"No; she left her game, and she's not dumb enough to leave food, especially if she planned on running…"

They were talking about her… She took a deep, shaky breath, her golden locket trembling with the action.

"You really trust her that much, Daryl?"

"Not exactly, but I don't think she'd do this…"

She must have put just too much pressure on the car door, because the old automobile squeaked, drawing everyone's attention to it. _Shit! _Now they knew where she was, or at least where to look. A tense moment hung in the air, so thick that it was almost tangible. Soon, the car door flew open, and she struck, the razor sharp edge of the dagger slicing through the air and almost into Daryl's face. It narrowly missed, only cutting the tip of a longer hair off.

"Hey hey, calm down! What the hell is your problem?!" She focused her sights onto him, her eyes narrowed as her breathing became shallower and a bit of her fire returned to her.

"What's _my _problem?! I dunno!" She stepped out the car and advanced on Daryl, her small frame unintimidating at finest, but his hand was on his knife regardless. She didn't seem to hear the sound of guns readying behind her. "Your homeboy, Shane, decided to kill Randall, break his neck. I saw it, and he decided that I'd make a pretty walker too!?" She tore herself away from him, her knuckles white from the force of her grip on the small blade. "Where is that guy anyway?! I need to have a personal word with him!" Her fierce gaze turned to Shane's friend and the leader of the group, Rick. The sherrif stared back at her evenly, telling silently she didn't have to worry anymore. Narrowed eyes glared back, still obviously upset, but didn't look away, forcing him to continue.

"Shane is gone…He told us you ambushed him with Randall…"

"And you believed him!?"

"We didn't have much to go off of, and you weren't there to deny it…"

White teeth curled up in irritation as her anger spiked, the stress causing her to react negatively. Instead of arguing with him, she just suppressed a growl and shoved her knife back into the safety of her boot. "Well I'm here now…" She shot a glance back up for a moment before hiking her backpack up on her back. "What now?"

-

Rebecca's question would be answered a few weeks later. A prison loomed ominously in front of her while she waited between the safety zone between the two fences. It was funny; she spent so much time trying to stay out of prison, since she had caused a ruckus in her hometown, but now they were putting their lives on the line to get into one. She couldn't hold a quiet scoff as she went about her job she was assigned…Keeping the walkers attention away from Rick.

Her lithe fingers, now covered in black leather gloves that she had found in some dead woman's chest of drawers, wrapped around the chain link fence, and she shook it with all she could muster. Metal clinked and clanked, drawing the attention successfully towards her. The girl hissed out the first words she'd said in weeks as she readied to stab a small female walker that had stumbled its way towards her. "Come here you." She drove the knife into its skull three times, missing only when she attempted a fourth time when the walker went down too quickly for her. Her motions were propelled with anger, it was evident in how she over killed the walkers that came her way.

When the gates opened, she was one of the first to leave its safety and jog out, looking for any walkers that were still alive. Any she found, dead or alive, were stomped as long as they had a head, and by the time she was done, night had fallen, and her boots were covered liberally in blood. The others had settled down, but Rebecca had no intentions of joining them; she saw how the cast wary glances her way. They were afraid that she had snapped and would take it out on them. They didn't know that this was how she acted before joining the group and letting her guard down. She found her own food, made how own fires, and watched her own back. So she went on her way, stationing herself a couple yards away from the larger group, where she could block out the sound of their chitter chatter and focus on her own breathing and the soft crackling of the small fire before her. Uncharacteristically cool air drifted over her slight form, but she brushed it off and opened her pack to get out a small, thin blanket that was stored in there. It had small snowflake designs on it and was a soft blue, and the girl threw it over her body before tucking away in it. Her hand, hidden underneath the wintery cloth, was clutching the handle of her kitchen knife. If anything came to bother her, she'd teach it a lesson…

Crunching footsteps alerted her to someone's presence, and when a can was placed on the ground near her, she only glanced up at the person who brought it to her. Daryl. He must have finished his perimeter watch. She glanced at the can that was labeled as 'spaghetti and meat sauce' and turned her face away from it. She didn't need their charity; there were a few cans left in her bag, but her stomach did not grumble and pine for nourishment.

"You gonna eat it?" Her slight shoulders bobbed up one time before falling back down to their resting position, her mouth not moving and her dark orbs staying firmly locked on the fire. It's tendrils licked the air vigorously, and Rebecca couldn't help but reach for it, only to stop just outside of its reach. "You hadn't said a word in a while." Again, the only response he got from her was the single bob of her shoulders, and it made him clench his teeth in aggravation. "I'm not sure why I even…" The man rose from his crouched position beside her and turned away from her, his eyes back on the group and dinner that was waiting for him, when her voice stopped him.

"Word…"

He was taken aback and threw his light gaze over his shoulder at her. "What did you say…?"

"Word," the girl mumbled, louder this time.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Word." The gears in his mind started clicking, and a growl grumbled in the back of her throat. It seemed to cause the smaller brunette pleasure, as he could see the sides of her slim lips quirk up just before he stalked back to the group. They gazed up at him curiously, not sure what brought his rage this time.

"She's fine…" he announced as he took his share of the squirrels, "Little smartass…"


End file.
